


These Currents Pull Us

by alba17



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alien Technology, Angst, First Time, Gen, Intercrural Sex, Kleptomania, M/M, Office Sex, Post-Episode: s01e04 Cyberwoman, Shoplifting, Teamwork, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-25
Updated: 2010-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Dark Fest. Prompt: <em>Ianto, Kleptomania. Numb, empty and floundering after losing Lisa, Ianto becomes addicted to the buzz of shoplifting again. Bonus points if you can give a bit of background on the circumstances of his first conviction.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	These Currents Pull Us

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** troygirl68, who made this a much better story than it would have been otherwise.  
> **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.
> 
> Title is from a song by The Decemberists.

The leaves on the trees were no longer green. He noticed when he was on the way to the corner shop for cigarettes, the pavement grey and pockmarked beneath his feet. A leaf floated lazily down in front of him, mottled and browning at the edges. He looked up and saw that the trees were various shades of orange, yellow, brown and red, piles of leaves accumulating on the still-green grass. The air was cool and dank. He felt a prickle of cold creep under his hoodie.

It was already well into autumn. When had that happened? He'd missed it.

Lisa had died in the late summer. Since then, everything had been blanketed with grey, the edges softened, sounds muted. Nothing quite reached him. The world was at a distant remove from his mind's eye, which was still mired in visions of red and blue flashing lights, silver smeared with crimson, the acrid scent of gunpowder shot at close range, and blood pooling on cold concrete; blood that had covered his hands and face, congealed on the soles of his shoes and still seeped into his nights. When the images prevented him from sleeping, he'd get up and walk the streets, not really seeing anything, just needing to move, to feel the steady rhythm of his footsteps, the hard ground beneath his feet; anywhere other than lying in bed with just his mind for company. He must have covered every inch of Cardiff.

He'd tried drinking, but that had just made everything worse. For a week, he'd woken up in the middle of the night with blinding headaches, nauseated and sickened, wanting to kill himself even more than he did during the day. He finished the bottle of vodka and didn't buy any more.

He tried taking up smoking again, and that had some minimal numbing effect. It gave him something to focus on when all he could do was sit on his sofa; it kept his hands and mouth occupied. It gave him a reason to go out to the shops and provided a way to pass the time until he could try to sleep again.

One day, Jack came. Ianto was sitting on his couch as usual, smoking, staring at the flickering images on the television. He couldn't have said what day of the week it was, or the date. He had a vague idea that it was probably September. He wasn't surprised to see Jack had brought coffee: Starbucks. He felt a twinge of curiosity as to whether the team had been living off of Starbucks or if anyone had taken up the coffee-making mantle back at the Hub.

He'd been dreading this moment. He didn't want to see Jack, didn't want to see any of them again. But he hadn't been able to get it together to do anything about it. Obviously, it was too late, now that Jack was here.

He looked dolefully at Jack, then back down at the coffee. Jack stared intently at him.

"You don't have to. You can come back if you want." Jack hadn't taken off his coat. He sat in the chair across from Ianto, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, crackling with restrained intensity. The air was thick with unsaid words.

Ianto stared back at him, remembering the edge of the gun barrel harsh and cold against his cheek; Jack's face red and contorted with rage. He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, leaning back and taking a drag from the cigarette. He blew smoke into the air, and it wafted up to join the haze hovering just below the ceiling.

"I'll give you until tomorrow to decide. Take the retcon or come back, those are your choices. If you want to come back, I'll expect you at 0800 tomorrow." Jack stood up with a flick of his coat and a steely look in his eye.

"And what happens if I come back?" What he meant was, was Jack going to throw him in one of the cells and call UNIT to take him away to one of their secret prisons, never to be heard from again?

"You go back to your regular duties, on probationary status." Jack loomed over him, the coat providing extra bulk. Ianto noticed there was an intricate circular design etched on his brass belt buckle. He sucked on the cigarette.

What the fuck? That wasn't what he expected. Jesus. Jack Harkness – always unpredictable.

"Okay." He looked at the cup of coffee. The foam on the top wasn't quite thick enough. "I'll think about it."

Jack swept out of his flat, leaving the coffee. Ianto went back to staring dully at the telly.

~~~~

A couple of weeks later.

The neon lights flashed in the grimy window of the shop, amidst the ads for phone cards and chips. Ianto pushed open the metal-grilled door with resignation. He told the clerk what brand of cigarettes he wanted and slumped against the counter, hands in his pockets.

It had been a crappy day: Jack was in a foul mood, Tosh was home sick and Gwen had clicked on the wrong button in the Rift monitoring program, crashing the whole thing. They'd spent the rest of the day trying to follow Tosh's off-site instructions to bring the mainframe back up. When they were almost done, they'd had to stop and run out to investigate a suspicious metallic object landing in the Bay. Ianto had gotten soaked and now they'd have to re-do all their work on the computer tomorrow.

He rubbed his eyes, which were aching from fatigue. The image of Lisa lying in the cyber-converter suddenly flashed into his mind, Dr. Tanizaki's hand splayed over the dark skin exposed through the gaps in her metal carapace. His head hurt and his chest clenched as if there were an actual hole in it.

He looked down at the selection of sweets and chewing gum. His eye was caught by the Mars bars – his favourite. A quick look around confirmed there was no one else in the small shop. While the clerk was turned around to get the cigarettes, Ianto quickly reached down, picked up the Mars bar and put it in his suit pocket, keeping his hand in there. The clerk turned around with his cigarettes. Ianto examined his face for any signs of suspicion as he paid; nothing. He grinned to himself.

He felt a thrill of success as he left the shop, the Mars bar in his pocket crinkling softly and thumping lightly against his hip as he walked. Immediately all thoughts of Lisa were gone and he smiled, thinking of the cold lager waiting for him at home.

~~~

He only did it when he was wearing a suit. No one would suspect a bloke in a suit. At first, it was just chewing gum, sweets, maybe a nail clipper; little cheap things that you could fit easily in a pocket. It gave him a lift, a little something to cheer him up. He never seemed to get around to quitting smoking, so that always gave him an excuse to go into corner shops, which were full of small, pocketable items. He varied the shops he went into to reduce the chance of getting caught.

He knew it was wrong, obviously. But he rationalized it by telling himself he was just stealing small things that didn't really matter. He wasn't depriving the shop owners of any great profit. And if he got caught? Well, covering things up was his job, after all. Shouldn't be a problem.

Things at work were, well, interesting. That first day, when he looked up at Jack and Gwen glowering down from the window of Jack's office, he wondered if he was completely nuts. What the hell was he doing here? He should have taken the retcon. This was insane, coming back to work at Torchwood, the place that ruined his life. But he didn't really know what else to do.

It was awful. He couldn't look anyone in the eye, especially Jack. He spoke only when necessary and tried to keep to himself, staying busy with the untold number of mundane tasks that made up his job. He never went to the lower levels. If there was something that needed to be done down there, he managed things so someone else would have to do it; ironic, after so many months of trying to keep everyone else out of that part of the Hub.

He'd catch people looking at him when they thought he wouldn't notice; Gwen's big eyes wondering and curious, Tosh's wary and assessing. As for Owen, his communication with Ianto consisted mainly of snarling barbs, resentment coming off him in waves. Jack was gruff and all business, with none of the flirty banter Ianto had grown accustomed to.

Maybe there wasn't a reason to wear the suits anymore. But the protective layer somehow it made it all easier.

More than anything, he felt guilty. Guilty for letting love blind him into foolishly believing Lisa could be saved. Guilty for almost letting cybermen lose on Earth again, the very monsters that had ruined his life once already. Guilty for the horrible way Lisa and Annie's lives had ended and for almost getting everyone else killed. Guilty for the anger and hurt in Jack's eyes when he shoved the gun into his face and told him to kill Lisa.

He couldn't bear it.

So he took the scraps of cheer he could from his little shoplifting escapades; it was the only time he felt alive. There was the anticipation when he entered a shop, his eyes scanning the wares for things he could steal, casing the set up, locating the shop employees and the security cameras. His Torchwood training was excellent preparation. Since he was always buying things for the Hub, he had a ready-made excuse to go into shops. Once he decided the coast was clear, he'd sneak the item into a pocket, or the backpack he'd started carrying around for this purpose. Then there were the endless minutes until he left the shop, his heart racing, sweaty with the fear of being caught, carefully keeping his face a mask.

He was good at that.

Then he'd walk the few steps to the shop door, electrified with the thrill of getting away with it, but still nervous. He'd push the door open, expecting any minute to be stopped. Stepping out onto the pavement, he'd walk quickly, just in case, visualizing the shop assistant running out after him yelling in classic fashion, "Stop! Thief!" But it never happened. He'd round the corner or hop into his car and drive away, overcome with elation, giddy with relief.

He kept all his stolen treasures in a drawer at home. Occasionally he'd take them all out and spread them on his bed, feeling like a ten year old, but suffused with a sense of triumph; some paperbacks, an electric toothbrush that played the Star Wars theme when you brushed your teeth (he was particularly proud of that item), a couple of porn magazines he never looked at, a Hello Kitty notebook, a cute little stuffed pig he'd thought about giving Tosh but never did. The hoard grew and grew, and that didn't include the numerous sweets, snacks and gum he'd pilfered and eaten quickly before he was overcome with shame.

He wasn't sure why he felt such satisfaction at this petty thievery, but there it was, shining and golden while everything else in his life was shit. Otherwise it was all grim routine, no longer animated by that big, burning hope of saving Lisa and having a normal life with her. Without that, he found Torchwood disturbing and painful, each day like walking down a long path covered in hot coals that he carefully picked his way along, step by step, attempting to navigate the least agonizing course.

~~~

Ianto's exploits got more and more adventurous and daring. At first, he tried it in a department store where he was buying clothes. There were different challenges to this type of store, of course, but his organisational mind made quick work of the barriers. Today, as he went through the coffee preparation motions, he was wearing a black belt with an attractive silver buckle that he'd pilfered from John Lewis. On his days off, he'd been wearing a red jumper he'd "acquired," that he thought was quite flattering.

He did like to look nice, he mused as he pressed the buttons on the coffeemaker. Just the other day, Jack had complimented his suit for the first time since Lisa. Ianto had grinned to himself, feeling secretly pleased. Though why he should care what Jack thought, beyond his function as a Torchwood employee, he wasn't sure. It was Jack that had made sure that Lisa was good and dead and could never be saved.

_Ianto thought that was the end, as the invisible lift carried them upward through the darkened heights of the Hub, the horrifying sight of Lisa lying on the concrete floor burning into his memory, her limbs churning against Myfanwy's attack, covered in the stuff Jack had splashed on her to entice the pteranodon to assault her. He didn't think it could get any worse; until Jack grabbed the gun and ordered him to kill Lisa; until Lisa spoke from Annie's body, crowned with a circlet of gore and conjuring memories of happiness; until blood spurted from her chest in a hail of Torchwood bullets, an innocent felled by Ianto's own hubris._

Jack had decided that Lisa had to die, but at the heart of it, it was his fault. As he delivered coffee and tea to the rest of the team, a blandly pleasant smile on his face and polite murmurings on his tongue, something coiled painfully in his guts. He imagined his tie wrapped around his neck, pulled tight and digging into his skin, scraping so it burned, the oxygen getting slowly choked off, his face turning red and mottled...

He had to get out of here.

As soon as he'd given everyone their mugs, he made some excuse to Jack about needing supplies and, with a huff of breath and a quick loosening of his tie, he escaped the Hub, heart thudding in his chest.

He headed straight for St. David's Shopping Centre.

~~~

"Morning, Ianto." Tosh greeted him as she entered the tourist office, juggling umbrella, coffee cup, handbag, and laptop bag. Her expression was guarded yet concerned, a bit like someone approaching a wounded wild animal. Ianto had always got on well with her, but they weren't close. He had held everyone in Torchwood at arm's length, having too many secrets to hide to risk friendship.

"Good morning." He took in her very smart purple skirt, delicate ivory blouse, and fashionable black heels. "You're looking quite nice today, Tosh."

She beamed at him and approached the counter, putting down her belongings to rearrange them so she could carry them more easily. "Nice enough for catching aliens?" She laughed. "Probably be changing by the end of the day."

Ianto looked down at his own navy blue suit and chuckled. "Well... Sometimes I do wonder why we don't just show up to work in coveralls like the weevils." He took a sip of his coffee. He wanted a cigarette, but he'd been trying to quit again.

She glanced at the magazine he'd been reading. "What's Prince Harry up to these days?"

"Wearing a dress and getting sloshed, apparently." The Prince actually looked rather fetching with red lipstick.

"What's that? A _netsuke_?" Tosh gestured to a small statue on the desk behind the counter.

"Er...yeah." He picked up the tiny statue, just a few inches tall.

"Can I see it?" Ianto handed it to her, a guarded expression on his face.

She turned it over in her hands. "You know these are Japanese, right?"

"Yep." Ianto studied the magazine. Tosh looked at him curiously, then back to the netsuke.

"It's lovely. Where did you get it?"

"Can't really remember. I've had it for ages." He took another sip of coffee and glanced out the tiny, smeared window of the tourist office. Any tourists who found this place and braved its bedraggled storefront had to be pretty desperate. Ianto was continually surprised that the occasional tourist did actually breach the dispiriting entryway.

"_Kitsune_. The fox. A shapeshifter." Tosh glanced at him again. "Interesting."

"Hmmm." Ianto turned a page of his magazine.

"Well." Tosh put the figure back on Ianto's desk. "Better get going. Jack wants those Rift figures by eleven."

"See you at lunch." With a quick smile, Ianto pushed the button that opened the secret door to the Hub.

Tosh gave him another searching look before disappearing down the dark corridor.

~~~

What Ianto couldn't tell Tosh was that he'd stolen the _netsuke_.

Judson's was a local antique dealer that Torchwood had a special arrangement with. The Rift delivered a broad assortment of items to Cardiff. Some things were from Earth, carried through time and dumped in the 21st century. Others were alien in origin, carried through space, possibly time as well. It wasn't always clear which was which. Some alien objects looked like Earth objects. Torchwood relied on experts such as Judson's to help it differentiate between the two.

That was how Ianto had ended up there the week before his conversation with Tosh. An Arcimadian had been discovered clinging to what looked exactly like a 19th century Swiss cuckoo clock. When the alien's webbed appendages had been pried from the clock and its floam-like residue cleaned off, it was Ianto's job to bring it to Judson's for evaluation. None of their scanners had produced definitive results as to its origins.

The shop was hushed and quiet when Ianto went in. There was no one in sight. It was filled from floor to ceiling with all manner of objects, from large Chinese cabinets with red doors inlaid with intricate gold dragons to petite porcelain tea sets probably meant for dolls. A buffalo head stared dolefully at Ianto from its perch high on the wall, quite possibly wondering how its life had gone from wandering the plains and munching grass to ending up surrounded by fanciful furniture in a Cardiff antiques shop.

Ianto approached the glass display case filled with Victorian jet jewellery and called out, "Hello!"

A small grey man who appeared to be the appropriate size for the miniature tea set bustled out of the back room, half-rim spectacles perched on his nose and buffing some shiny object with a cloth: Simon Burton, the shop's proprietor.

"Mr. Jones! How nice to see you. What do you have for me today?"

Ianto held up the clock, now covered with a cloth. "Looks like a Swiss cuckoo clock."

"Ah. This way." He gestured to the back of the shop. Ianto followed, just avoiding knocking over a stand stocked with what appeared to be antique swords. Ianto briefly wondered if Captain John had made a visit here.

The back room was even more stuffed with things than the shop proper. There were several precarious looking towers of items that looked like they might topple over at the slightest touch. It smelled of old paper, musty clothing and cleaning solvents. Mr. Burton toddled over to a table outfitted with a powerful work lamp and cleared a few items out of the way so Ianto could put the clock down.

"Let me just take a look at it for a few minutes. I might be able to make a determination while you wait, then you won't have to make a return trip." Mr. Burton pulled out a reference book, picked up a magnifying glass and some other tools and got to work.

"Thank you." Ianto sneezed – dust - and started to pull out his mobile to check his e-mail, when his eye was caught by shelf full of small statues. He glanced at Mr. Burton, who was engrossed in his examination of the clock, muttering to himself. The shelf was about ten feet away and Ianto walked over to it to get a better look. The statues were tiny, only a couple of inches tall, carved out of what appeared to be ivory, of various animals and people in sinuous forms. They were clearly Asian. They were beautiful, each one a work of art. Ianto was entranced. He'd never seen anything like them.

One in particular spoke to him. It was a fox, its long tail twined around its body, its ears perky, the mouth seemed to be smiling almost. There was something about its expression, like it could see into his soul and give him all the answers. He picked it up to look at it more carefully.

He had to have it.

He could ask Mr. Burton how much he wanted for it. But something held him back. Then the thought snuck into his brain, slinking into his consciousness, snake-like: he could just take it. It would be easy. It was so little – it would fit right in his pocket. His better nature argued that it might be worth a lot of money; Mr. Burton didn't deserve that sort of treatment.

He didn't care. He wanted it. It would make him happy.

The blood pumped in his head and sweat broke out under his arms. Sneaking another look at Mr. Burton, who was still happily engaged in the clock. Ianto casually dropped the tiny statue in his inside jacket pocket as if it had been his all along, then quickly took out his mobile and pulled up the email screen.

He had to get out of there. He couldn't stand there, just waiting, feeling like the fox was burning a hole in his pocket,.

"Mr. Burton, I'm going to need to go back to work. I'll give you a call later," he called over to Mr. Burton as he started for the front of the shop.

"All right, son, all right. This might be awhile anyway. That's fine."

Ianto blew out a breath and rushed out of the shop.

~~~

Not long after, Torchwood was called to the Orange store in the Capitol Shopping Centre. The shop assistants had been complaining of strange sounds and holographic images being projected from the phones on display. Jack and Ianto went to check it out after a false Weevil sighting brought them to the Queen Street area.

Ianto avidly surveyed the rows of gleaming mobiles. He had just been in the store the other day looking at the iPhones. He hadn't noticed anything untoward, but on the other hand, who knew what mobiles were capable of these days? Undoubtedly, holographic displays would soon be _de rigeur_. He'd had a moment of temptation as he fingered the slick slab of technology, but he'd already had his fun in Next: a soft, black cardigan was stuffed into his backpack. It had been child's play for him to deactivate those plastic anti-shoplifting tags with some Torchwood tech after studying how they worked.

Today, Jack's coat swished back and forth as he loped toward the back of the store and Ianto scurried behind him. Jack had just started to bring Ianto out with him on some of his weevil-hunting excursions. It was tremendously exciting and much better than following glowing dots on the computer screen back at the Hub, which just made him anxious and unable to do anything about it. Ianto felt a surge of pride when Jack had waved at him to come with him to Queen Street. They couldn't take any chances in such a populated area – they always treated such calls as emergencies.

Ianto hoped it meant Jack was starting to trust him again. Apparently at some point that had started to matter, despite himself.

Jack found the manager to get the details from her, while Ianto pulled out his pad and pen out to take notes. The manager giggled and blushed as Jack went through his usual flirting routine. Idly waiting for her to divulge some substantive information, Ianto's attention wandered to the computer monitor on the desk behind her. It was running an iPhone commercial and working on Ianto just as it was intended, making him want one even more. There really wasn't anything else like it, of Earth origin anyway. He started thinking about how he could tap into the mobile network without getting an official account; hack into their accounts network, use a phony name and...

"Ianto." Jack tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh." Ianto snapped to attention and raised his notebook and pen higher, ready to write.

"Just wanted to make sure you were still with us." Jack pierced him with a look.

Oh God. He didn't want to fuck this up. "Ready, sir."

"Good." Jack gave him a reassuring grin. "Ms. Glynbourne here is going to show us the phones that were acting strangely."

"Excellent." Ianto tried to look as attentive as possible, straightening his spine.

Ms. Glynbourne touched Jack on the arm. "Sophie, please." Ianto suppressed an eyeroll as Sophie brought them over to the suspect phones. They all stood there, looking at them blankly.

"Er, well..." Jack picked one up and turned it upside down, as if he could divine its secret alien nature from the smooth, opaque exterior. "We're going to have to take over the store for a couple of hours in order to get to the bottom of this." He glanced at Ianto, who tried to look helpful and supportive without having a clue. "We'll have to get the others over here for a thorough inspection." Ianto nodded and set about getting the rest of the team to the shop.

While they waited, Sophie showed them the rest of the shop, including the storeroom. Jack assessed the exits and HVAC system. Ianto surveyed the iPhone boxes piled high on the storeroom shelves. It was a bit overwhelming. He swallowed down his greedy impulses, eyes flicking over to Jack, whose back was turned, hands on his hips as he looked up at the ceiling where there were vents and pipes, the coat flaring out behind him.

He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. Jack was right there, quizzing Sophie about the ventilation system and the store's operating hours. Ianto should be taking notes. But the notebook remained by his thigh and he found himself stepping towards the shelf with the iPhones. Jack flashed a ridiculously wide grin at something Sophie said and he put his hand on her shoulder. Sophie practically sparkled in response, twitching her shoulders and smoothing back her hair. Jack chuckled and leaned in to her slightly.

_The concrete was hard under his knees, his arms quivering as he held them behind his head, his shirt sticking moistly to his back. The strange red light that suffused the Hub made it difficult to see clearly. He could feel all their eyes on him, glittering black smudges in pale ovals bathed in an orange glow. The gun hovered inches from his face. This was it, the moment he'd been fearing for months. Jack's mouth was a thin, rigid line in a closed off mask, spitting out questions, his eyes cold and grey. Between the tears, Ianto somehow summoned the fortitude to fling out his own question: "Haven't you ever loved anyone?"_

The memory curdled in Ianto's stomach as he turned again to the shelf of iPhones. Fuck Jack. Fuck all of them. He felt flushed, angry and excited, nervous tension coursing through him. Jack and Sophie had moved over to a desk a few feet away and Sophie was showing Jack some paperwork, their shoulders almost touching. Ianto moved farther into the shelves of phones and he quickly grabbed one of the boxes off the shelf and tucked it into his suit jacket. A bit bulky, perhaps, but if he held his notepad in front of his chest, that would help. His breathing was shallow and shaky and he felt very hot. He took a deep breath and told himself he could do this.

He emerged from the shelves and walked over to the others, making a gesture to Jack indicating he needed to make a phone call back to the Hub. Jack glanced at Ianto's chest, where he was holding the notepad over the iPhone box. Ianto held his breath. But Jack just nodded without saying anything and turned back to Sophie.

On automatic pilot, Ianto walked into the main part of the shop and out onto the pavement, not really seeing anything, propelled by the need to escape. Once outside, he stood there helplessly until someone talking on a mobile bumped into him and looked at him accusingly, prompting Ianto to move next to the building, out of the flow of pedestrian traffic.

He'd done it. Right there in front of Jack; at work. Everything seemed to vibrate and the sounds of traffic and people talking were unnaturally loud, the colours intense. The iPhone box felt huge inside his jacket and every passing glance in his direction an accusation. He expected a police car to pull up any second and haul him away. Where could he hide it?

Before he could do anything, however, the rest of the team arrived and started peppering him with questions and pulling out equipment. Jack emerged from the store, followed by Sophie.

"Gwen, contact the police department to get this area cordoned off. Tosh, we need a thorough scan of all the phones. Owen, get hold of the blueprints for the building." The team scrambled to their tasks and Ianto waited for his instructions, notebook still clutched to his chest. He just hoped he'd get an opportunity to ditch the iPhone in a safe place soon. His skin crawled with the need to get rid of it.

"Ianto, come with me." Jack grabbed his arm and started pulling him down the street. Ianto struggled to keep the box covered with the notebook.

Jack hadn't seen him.

Or had he?

~~~

"Okay, you can hide it now. You must have somewhere in mind."

Ianto gulped.

"I know you took the phone."

Ianto averted his eyes and profoundly wished that the floor would swallow him up.

Jack had hustled him to his own flat with no explanation, leaving the rest of the team at the Orange store. Ianto was a complete wreck. His shirt was soaked with sweat under his jacket and his arm was sore from holding it at a strange angle to keep the iPhone box under his jacket, the hard edge digging into his chest. His mouth was bone dry.

Ianto stared at Jack, mortified. He let the box slip down into his hand, out of the jacket. No point in hiding it now. Jack looked at it, an indecipherable expression on his face.

"So. What were you planning to do with it?"

Ianto didn't have any explanation. No words came. His eyes flickered around his lounge, taking in the sparse furnishings, the shelf of DVDs and paperbacks, as if looking for an escape route. Randomly, he thought he should try to fix that IKEA TV table that he'd put together wrong, so he could use the drawer.

_His mother was waiting when they brought him out from the holding cells. She didn't have to say anything; the disappointment was plain in her face, ashen and drawn. She looked so tired, eyes bloodshot and shoulders slumped. He felt guilt wash over him. This was the last thing she needed, her boy getting in trouble, what with working all those extra hours now. He felt so foolish._

_He missed his tad._

Jack wiped his face with his hand. "I thought you seemed too together. How long has this been going on, Ianto? Talk to me."

How could Ianto possibly explain? This thing he did, it was something all his own, a glittering bauble he could treasure and embrace, keep close and secret. He couldn't convey to someone else the thrill and joy that it gave him. Jack would never understand. And, anyway, he didn't want to talk about it or make anyone understand. He liked his secrets.

Ianto collapsed on the sofa, and Jack sat down next to him. Oh God. He felt like he was fourteen years old again, his mother quietly confronting him across the kitchen table with sad eyes.

"Listen, Ianto. I've been watching you."

Ianto somehow had the presence of mind to lift an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well, not just like that. Although I do like your suits." He eyed Ianto's body in a totally inappropriate fashion, given the situation. "But anyway. You've been through a lot and I wasn't sure how you were going to handle being back at Torchwood." He looked Ianto in the eye. "You're a hard man to read, Ianto. You're too used to keeping secrets. If we're going to work together and you're going to be part of the team, we've all got to trust each other. And you've got a lot to overcome in that area."

"I know," Ianto said. His voice felt high in his throat, like there was something blocking it. He was surprised he could even get a word out.

"But I let you come back because you have unique qualities to contribute. And despite everything, maybe Torchwood owes you something. You and Lisa. Enough lives have been destroyed."

Ianto bent his head, tears welling up finally. He put a hand to his forehead, covering his face. He didn't want Jack to see.

Jack put a hand on his shoulder. "There's something I need you to do. You're probably not going to like it."

Ianto's mind raced, plumbing the possibilities. Being Torchwood, they were terrifyingly infinite.

"I've seen this...problem before. You must have a stash somewhere, am I right?"

Jesus Christ, how could he possibly know that? Ianto's face heated in a tell-tale fashion.

"Yeah, you do. Where is it? You need to get rid of that stuff if you're going to get over this." Jack stood up. "You're going to do it now, while I watch."

Closing his eyes for a moment, Ianto gathered himself together for the ordeal. This was so embarrassing. "Yeah, okay."

He lead Jack into his bedroom and pulled out a drawer of his bureau. Everything was in there. When he looked at it now, with the cold eye of another person looming over his shoulder, he could see how silly it all was. The stolen items looked so petty and childish. Jack didn't say anything, but he gestured Ianto to get on with it.

"I guess I need a bin bag," Ianto mumbled, feeling sure childhood posters of his favourite footy stars and pop singers would suddenly appear on his bedroom walls. He shuffled into the kitchen to get a bin bag and when he returned, Jack was looking at the books and photos on his shelves. He picked up the one of Lisa and him camping in France then put it back down. Jack knew everything about him now, it seemed.

Ianto started dumping the stuff into the bag. There was nothing he cared about, it was all junk. Jack raised his eyebrows when he saw the "Big Boobs" magazine, but he said nothing. When it was all in the bag, Ianto tied it up and stood there, unsure what to do.

"Is that it?" Jack said. "Was everything in that drawer?"

Ianto sighed in resignation. Shit. He was going to have to give up the clothes, too, wasn't he? "Noooo." He couldn't help a little whine creep into his tone. He really was turning into a teenager again. He started pulling out the red jumper, the black belt, the black cardigan.

"My, you were industrious," Jack snarked. Ianto glared at him. "Too bad. I liked that red jumper."

Okay, that was confusing, because Ianto had never worn that to work.

Oh. Jack really had been keeping tabs on him. He should be used to that, he supposed. Now he felt more than ever like Jack's puppet. He put the clothes in the bin bag.

"Okay then. Let's take it out to the bins outside." Jack took his arm, directing him out of the flat. Ianto felt like a rag doll, with no control over his own limbs. There was a sense of unreality, as if he were watching a movie. This couldn't possibly be his own life. Unfortunately, it was a rerun of what had happened after his tad died, which made it all worse.

He threw the bag in the bin while Jack watched, arms crossed over his chest. He turned to look at Jack to see what he was supposed to do next, since he seemed to have no will of his own anymore. Jack nodded his approval.

"That's enough for now. I'm taking you for a pint. We gotta talk." Ianto was glad when Jack took his arm again, because he didn't know if he could put one foot in front of the other in any organised fashion.

They settled into a booth, Jack with his water and a pint of Brain's for Ianto. Now that everything was out in the open and he'd gotten rid of the stash, Ianto felt surprisingly relieved. Glancing at Jack sipping his water, he had no idea what was going to happen. He jiggled his foot anxiously, taking a long drink of his beer, trying to quench his incredible thirst. At least Jack wasn't sticking a gun in his face.

Jack put his glass down and gave him a level look. "Ianto. You've got to fix this. I know we sometimes play fast and loose with the rules around here, but we can't have a Torchwood employee engaging in petty crime on a regular basis. Not unless it's official Torchwood business." He grinned, acknowledging the irony.

Ianto stared into his pint. He'd kill for a cigarette.

"Plus, I'm concerned about you, Ianto. This isn't good, this thing. I'd like to keep you around. What would I do without your suits and coffee to look forward to every day?" He smirked. "But seriously, this has got to stop. If it doesn't, I'll have to bring Starbucks round to your flat again. And I don't think either of us wants that."

Ianto opened his mouth as if to say something, but he didn't. Instead, he picked up his glass and took a sip, sighing as he put the glass back down.

Jack grinned, reaching over and laying his hand on Ianto's, clasped tightly around the glass. "We both know your coffee is much better than Starbucks."

Despite himself, Ianto felt a flutter of pleasure at Jack's praise, and he nodded in agreement. "It's true," he said. It was nice to hear Jack acknowledge it out loud.

"Well, don't get a big head about it." Jack chuckled, removing his hand.

Ianto realised with a start that Jack hadn't touched him like that since before the Lisa debacle. Back then, it was common for Jack to couch his flirting with little touches to Ianto's arm, his back, very occasionally his hand or waist. Ianto was of two minds about it. He couldn't deny that there was chemistry between them, had been from the start, and that he'd capitalised on that to get into Torchwood Three. He enjoyed his banter with Jack, and under different circumstances, maybe he'd have been more encouraging. But while he was trying to save Lisa, he wasn't sure he wanted any extra attention from the boss. He preferred to stay invisible and blend into the background. It facilitated his goal of restoring Lisa to her human nature. Nonetheless, his pulse raced when he felt Jack's hand press between his shoulders or his fingers rest briefly on the back of Ianto's hand. Ianto's eyes occasionally got caught in Jack's, and he'd have to wilfully drag them away, reminding himself that Lisa was trapped in a cyberbody not far away.

Ianto had been so preoccupied with his grief and his new "hobby" that he hadn't really thought of Jack that way recently. Nor could he forget what Jack did that day, the role he'd played in Lisa's final demise. Glancing at Jack's handsome face and recalling the same features contorted in anger behind the barrel of the Webley, Ianto struggled with his conflicted feelings, tracing circles in the condensation on his glass.

What did he want? Once again, a gaping void had opened up in his life. He'd tried to fill the aching hole created by the loss of Lisa with corrosively self-destructive habits; he couldn't seem to help it. The thrill of the habit was comfortingly familiar from his teenage years. Everything else seemed so pale and dull in comparison. He didn't know how else to feel alive. Now he didn't even have that any more.

"Ianto, buck up." Ianto jerked his head up in surprise at Jack's voice, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You're going to whip this. I know a therapist who specialises in treating compulsive behaviours like this. There's no problem talking to her about Torchwood – she's got a special security clearance. Although, er, probably best not to mention Lisa. She's from the Medullian Galaxies, but we try not to hold that against her." Jack winked. "Her disguise is brilliant."

Ianto exhaled loudly. "All right. If you think it will help." He tried to imagine going into a shop without thinking about shoplifting. Yeah, he probably needed help.

"In the meantime, I want you to order all our supplies over the phone or the internet. No sense in exposing you to temptation," Jack said. Ianto felt relieved.

"Oh, and once you've beaten this thing, I want you to work on quitting smoking. Nasty habit. I want you around for a while and I don't like the smell. Never pleasant to kiss someone who's been smoking." He smacked the table with both hands and stood up. "Finished?" He nodded at Ianto's pint.

Ianto nodded. The innuendo was reassuringly normal, although Jack seemed to be turning into Oprah. Ianto wanted a cigarette more than ever.

 

~~~

As soon as they got back to the Hub, Jack told Ianto to make everyone coffee. Ianto was happy to do so, finding the ritual soothing and mindless. He was anxious about whether Jack was going to say anything to the others, although he was calmer now that he'd been able to have a cigarette on the way back from the pub, even though Jack groused about it. Now, he was gritting his teeth as he listened to Owen and Gwen going on about how great iPhones were, wondering when Torchwood was going to start using them.

"Not compliant with our alien tech interface, I'm afraid," Tosh shot them down gleefully. She was the only one who really understood it completely, although Jack seemed to have a working knowledge of their system.

They hadn't found anything conclusive at the Orange store. Tosh was compiling all the data they'd retrieved, the readings and photographs, the eyewitness accounts. Gwen was trawling the archives for similar phenomena.

"Ianto!" Jack bellowed from his office.

Ianto's heart knocked painfully in his chest. Even after their talk in the pub, he was nervous. "Yes, sir," he murmured into his earpiece. "Be right there."

When he got up to Jack's office, Jack was sitting with his feet up on his desk, passing something back and forth between his hands like a ball. His face did not look friendly and relaxed. Ianto stood rigidly at attention.

Jack put the object on his desk. It was the _netsuke_. "Familiar with this?"

Ianto choked.

"Yeah. Thought so. Burton says it's worth at least a thousand pounds. Extremely rare. Mysteriously went missing after your last visit to his shop. Care to enlighten me?"

Only a slight rasping came out of Ianto's throat. He couldn't seem to articulate any sounds. Oh God. It wasn't over. His shoulders slumped and he sank down into the chair in front of Jack's desk.

Jack came around and sat on his desk facing Ianto. "Okay. I know you're going to be working on this problem, but this is more serious than I thought. These are people we work with; we need to maintain good relationships with them. You can't go around fucking up everything with this...compulsion."

He got up and paced the room. Ianto put his head in his hands for a moment. It was exactly what he feared about the fox _netsuke_. It _was_ valuable. Jesus. He wondered how Jack had found it. Probably best not to know. "I know," he said, contrite. "I won't do it again. It's over."

Jack stopped pacing, shoving his hands in his pockets. "All right. I believe you." He took a couple of steps toward Ianto, looking at him, considering. "You know, I was starting to trust you again. Now you're going to have to prove yourself to me once more. We have to be able to trust each other here. That's the only way we can do this kind of work." He heaved a sigh.

Ianto sat back in the chair and rubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, I know."

"I won't tell the rest of the team as long as I believe that you're working to get over this problem and you aren't a danger to us." Jack pulled up another chair next to Ianto and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "But I'll be getting regular reports from your therapist and I want you to check in with me on how you're doing. Is that a deal?"

Ianto met his eyes directly. "Yes, sir."

Jack slapped him on the knee. "Good. Because I really, really don't want to figure out how big a dose of retcon I'd need to wipe all this out of your memory."

Ianto gave him a weak grin. He didn't want to think about that either.

"All right. Maybe there's a way we can make this work for us. You like to take risks, that much is clear. We just need to channel that impulse." Jack paused, lost in thought.

"Jack." Tosh appeared at the door. "I think we may have found a lead. Some of the phones were assembled at a plant down by the water, in an area where we've detected Rift spikes during the last year. This might be the source of the problem."

"Good work, Tosh," Jack said. "We need to get in there and see what's going on." He glanced at Ianto. "We'll be down in a few minutes, Tosh." Jack dismissed her, and once she'd left, he put a hand on Ianto's knee. "Ianto. I want you in on this. There might be something appropriate for your 'talents' on this mission."

Ianto nodded. "If you think so, I'd be happy to come along." He was anxious to prove himself. Whatever Jack wanted him to do, he'd do.

"Good. Let's get back to the others and figure this out." He squeezed Ianto's knee before letting go. Legs wobbly, Ianto followed him out of the office.

~~~

PEK Industries was located on a wind-swept road near the water, a corridor of faceless industrial buildings and struggling vegetation. On the way over, Ianto had studied the blueprints that Tosh had uploaded to his mobile and he felt like he had a good grasp of the layout. Tosh had advised him that based on the pattern of readings, one room in particular was a likely source of alien activity, and he should focus his efforts there. Jack parked the SUV a street away, far enough not to be immediately suspicious, but close enough if Ianto should need assistance.

Ianto was to get into the building in the guise of a safety inspector – an oldie but a goody. If he found anything suspicious, he was to snag whatever was small enough to carry and leave as soon as possible. Any larger items he was to scan, and if necessary, they'd return after hours for more in-depth investigation.

"You ready?" Jack asked him, sitting in the driver's seat of the SUV.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Ianto replied, although his knuckles were white on the passenger-side door handle.

Jack handed Ianto a hardhat. "Really?" Ianto scoffed in disbelief, eyebrow raised.

"You need to dress the part," Jack said, all innocent eyes. "Plus, there's a camera installed in the front of it. Just press your earpiece twice and it takes a picture." He grinned. "But don't worry, I'll be along shortly in an Indian headdress and my shirt off, just to make you feel more comfortable."

Ianto couldn't help smiling, despite his anxiety. He filed away the image of Jack shirtless for more in-depth perusal at a later time.

"Don't forget, you're from the Health and Safety Executive," Tosh said, leaning forward from the back seat, looking at Ianto with concern,. "And you remember how to work the scanner – press this button to start it..."

"Tosh, Tosh, yes, I know, I've got it. Don't worry," Ianto said, trying to reassure her. "I'll be fine."

"We'll be in constant communication if you need us," Jack reminded him, as if Ianto hadn't coordinated the rest of the team on dozens of missions through comms before from the Hub.

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I know." He pulled out a cigarette in preparation for getting out of the SUV. "One for the road, yeah? Just while I'm walking over there."

It was Jack's turn to roll his eyes. "You're gonna be throwing those away soon, Mr. Jones, if I have anything to say about it."

He needed that cigarette to calm his nerves. Although he was less tense than he expected, he realized, as he walked around the corner onto the street where the factory was located. The wind was brisk and he had trouble lighting up. He only managed a few puffs before reaching the front entrance to PEK Industries, where he threw it to the ground.

Under the guise of checking his mobile, he took a minute to fortify himself. He could do this. He knew he could. He had the entire Torchwood team at his back, with all their tech and weaponry. It was nothing like shoplifting, where the lay of the land was unknown: no special tech, blueprints or company organisation charts ready to hand, just him winging it with his five senses.

Plus, well, today's adventure was part of protecting the Earth, not just satisfying his own base urges. If there was anything he felt strongly about right now, it was the need to defend his country against another alien invasion like the cybermen. He didn't want anyone else to suffer the way Lisa had, to have someone else's loved one witness what he'd seen, at Canary Wharf, and later, at the Hub on the day Lisa died. Whatever he had to do to prevent that, he would. He realised at that moment that he was ready to die, if necessary. It was only pure luck that had kept him alive until now, after all. The time he had left was a bonus. He still felt guilty for surviving when so many others hadn't, but he felt a sense of renewed purpose.

"Everything okay there, Ianto?" Jack's flat American vowels suddenly blasted through the earpiece, and Ianto jumped.

"Yes, sir. Just fine. I'm about to go in."

"Good. See you on the other side."

Ianto checked his pocket to make sure he had the fake I.D. and the stun gun Jack had made him take for security, hoisted his hard hat, and pushed open the door.

~~~

Ianto tried not to run as he returned to the SUV, his heart racing. He rapped on the window. "I got something. Open up the back," he said in a rush.

Jack and Tosh scrambled to open the rear of the SUV and Ianto met them there.

Jack put a hand on his shoulder, with a concerned look. "What happened back there, Ianto? The comms went out for a few minutes."

"Yeah, that's how I knew I was on to something. It was the room housing the servers, just like you said, Tosh. It interfered with the reception on the comms as I got closer." He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He felt exhilarated, adrenaline coursing through him like an electric current. It was reminiscent of how he felt the night he'd moved Lisa into the Hub, except then the adrenaline was overlaid with sick worry over Lisa's survival and the certainty of death or worse if he failed.

Today, he'd had no problem getting in the building; the receptionist had bought his story about being a safety inspector, as had the manager to whom she directed him. Everything seemed on the up and up until he got closer to the server room. The workers assembling the phones looked normal, the phone components looked normal. Even the coffeemaker was firmly of Earth origin; the coffee in fact tasted exactly like mud, he discovered when the receptionist forced some on him.

However, the things in the server room were definitely _not_ terrestrial. He'd had to sneak in there. They'd tried to deflect him, claiming there was nothing in there of concern to a safety inspector, just a few computers, but he'd slipped away from his handler and entered the room marked "DANGER – ELECTRICAL EQUIPMENT AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" and for good measure, "CAUTION – HIGH RADIATION AREA."

Even after he entered the server room, everything looked routine until he opened a grey steel door nonsensically marked, "CAUTION – USE STATIC GROUNDING DEVICES." Inside was nothing that required static grounding devices, but rather a slimy, blue-tinged octopus-like creature whose tentacles were hooked up to wires, and whose head emitted flashing red lights. Ianto had slammed the door shut in shock at first, but then re-opened it after he calmed down, to take some pictures. The creature didn't react at all to the invasion of its space, leading Ianto to wonder if it was drugged in some manner.

Following the wires, he found a device about the size of a book attached to the side of the cabinet, with a sort of docking space that held...an iPhone. He managed to detach the wires, hoping that they weren't keeping the creature alive, and slipped the device into his briefcase. There were several other similar cabinets and checking them all, he discovered an octopus creature in each one. He left those alone figuring they could find out what they needed to know from the one he'd taken.

As soon as he had the device in hand, he left the server room, quickly handed the manager an inspection form giving the factory a clean bill of health, and exited the building, heart going a mile a minute. He hadn't bothered to get back on comms; he just wanted to get out of there.

Back at the SUV, he described what he'd found to Jack and Tosh, and handed Tosh the device. She lost no time in beginning her analysis, sweeping her scanner over it and peering closely at the readings. "I'll need to take this back to the Hub," she said.

"Great job, Ianto," Jack said, slapping him on the back. "You did good." He looked closely at him for a moment. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ianto said with a grin. He really was.

"Good." He grabbed the back of Ianto's neck and gave it a squeeze. "Now, let's get out of here," He jumped back into the driver's seat and turned on the ignition.

Ianto hopped into the SUV and leaned his head back on the headrest. It was just sinking in, that he'd made it out of there without mishap and managed to get something they could use to figure out what was going on at PEK Industries. Clearly, they were going to have to do something about the place, but they'd figure it all out back at the Hub. Ianto had accomplished his part of the mission and he was proud of himself. Jack seemed to be too. For the first time since he couldn't remember when, Ianto felt like he was asset, not a liability. Maybe things were finally looking up.

He watched Jack's profile as he drove, and Jack must have sensed his eyes on him, because he turned for a second to look at Ianto. He gave him a broad, dimpled smile full of blinding white teeth that turned Ianto's insides to mush. Ianto smiled back, and Jack put his hand on Ianto's thigh, pressing briefly before turning his attention back to the road.

Ianto settled back in the seat, the heat from Jack's hand lingering on his thigh. Now that there was nothing urgent to attend to, he let his thoughts wander to that image of Jack shirtless with an Indian headdress...

~~~

A few weeks later...

Jack swept into the Hub to the accompaniment of the proximity alarm and started bellowing orders as Ianto helped him to take his coat off. "Gwen! I want those UNIT reports on my desk this afternoon. Tosh! Mainframe is eating my browser bookmarks and nobody likes a captain who can't get to his porn. Owen! There's a diseased Hoix with your name tattooed on its butt in the morgue. And Ianto! I need to hear those lovely Welsh vowels telling me you bought more loo paper yesterday or I can't answer for the consequences." Jack clattered up towards his office and gave one more command as he perched on the narrow metal steps. "Oh, and Ianto? I need your help finding something in the archives. Meet me there in ten."

Owen snorted as he made his way down to the morgue. "Is that a gun in your pocket, Captain Harkness?" he muttered, pulling out his instruments and frowning at the decayed and mottled Hoix displayed on the morgue table. "Another beauty contest winner, I see," he said before slicing the thing open to release a poisonous stench and becoming engrossed in its dissection. "Ian-tooooh! I'm going to need more gloves before long!" he yelled up at Ianto, who was in the kitchen cleaning some mugs.

"Sure thing, Owen," Ianto called back, making a note as he left the kitchen.

Tosh and Gwen exchanged glances and a bit of a giggle as their eyes followed Ianto making his way towards the archives. "How much time do you reckon they actually spend working down there?" Gwen asked.

Tosh smiled enigmatically, then scowled at her monitor. "Was Jack serious about those bookmarks?" She shrugged. "Eh, it'll take me two minutes." She started typing at lightning speed, and Gwen chuckled, picking up the phone to call UNIT.

Ianto smiled to himself as he punched in the passcode to the archives. Things were going swimmingly since his mission to PEK Industries. For the first time in a very long time, he thought he might actually be happy. Jack was inviting him along on more missions with the team and gradually giving him more responsibilities around the Hub. He had a major project going with reorganising the archives from the 1970's and he was enjoying using some of his archival training from Torchwood One. He stopped at his desk near the entrance of the archives and checked his to-do list. He could cheerfully spend an afternoon in the archives ticking off the rest of the tasks.

Jack arrived a few minutes later, shirtsleeves rolled up over tanned muscle and buttoned-up waistcoat outlining his torso, the blue of his clothing bringing out the colour of his eyes. The low-ceilinged space suddenly seemed much smaller as Jack's outsized presence sucked up the atmosphere. Ianto took a moment to deliberately appreciate the man's physical appearance.

Jack made his own inspection of Ianto, and his approval of Ianto's purple shirt and tie and black waistcoat showed in his eyes. Ianto was getting more daring in his colour choices and he'd discovered that vivid colours suited him. He'd reacquainted himself with one of his father's tailor mates and he'd had all his suits taken in for a more fitted, narrow silhouette. Jack, for one, made it obvious he was thankful.

Consequently, their flirting had taken on a more overt tone lately. The rest of team had noticed, based on Owen's snarky remarks and the girls' keenly observant glances, but Ianto couldn't be arsed to care; not when Jack leaned against him as he looked over Ianto's shoulder, ostensibly discussing something on Ianto's monitor, while caressing the bare skin on the back of his neck until Ianto couldn't breathe, all too aware that Jack's crotch was just a few inches away, and it would take only the smallest of movements to make actual contact.

No more half-cyberised girlfriend to hold him back now.

"So." Jack sidled up next to Ianto, leaning back against the desk, crossing his ankles. "I wanted to check in with you away from the others. Your therapist says things are going well and you may be able to stop seeing her soon."

"Yeah, that's right," Ianto said. He shifted so he faced Jack. "She's very pleased with my progress."

Jack looked at him directly, assessing. "What about you? What do you think?"

Ianto thought for a moment, gazing down the aisles of file cabinets. "I feel good about it." He nodded as if confirming it to himself. "Yeah, I do. I think I've beaten this thing."

Jack smiled at him, his eyes crinkling at the edges, searching Ianto's face. "Good." His eyes landed on Ianto's mouth, then flicked back up to his eyes. "I'm glad." He turned to face Ianto. "Because now I can do something I've been wanting to do for a very long time." Ianto's eyes widened as Jack came closer, moving right into his space, slipping a hand around his waist and pulling him forward into his body as he leaned in to kiss him. Ianto didn't move at first, surprised at Jack's lips warm against his, even though this was a moment he'd also been thinking about for a long time. Then Jack's mouth moved, pliant and welcoming, and his tongue licked its way into Ianto's mouth, soft and searching, and it was all Ianto could do not to fling Jack on the desk and rip off his clothes right there and then. It had been so long and this was such a long time coming.

They lingered over the kiss as they explored each other, lips and tongue and teeth, hot, wet and filthy, finally grinding against each other in desperation. Ianto's hands gripped Jack's biceps, Jack clutched Ianto's arse, until Ianto came, arched over his desk, wetting his pants with come as Jack rutted against him for a few more moments, with the silken back of Ianto's waistcoat clenched in his hand, until he too found his release and collapsed onto Ianto, laughing.

Jack smoothed Ianto's hair back from his forehead, looking into his eyes. "Ianto Jones, Ianto Jones. You don't know how long I've been wanting to do that." He snorted. "Coupla teenagers, huh?" Then he buried his face in Ianto's shoulder, sighing. Ianto clasped Jack's waist, slightly in awe of the man's ability to make light, still limp with the afterglow and in shock at the speed of what had just happened. My God, they hadn't undone any buttons or unzipped a single zip. Ianto's crotch was getting cold and sticky with the cooling dampness between them. He'd have to figure out how to change his clothes without it being obvious what had happened.

"I think I might just order everyone home early," Jack murmured into Ianto's neck, nuzzling. "What do you say? Perk of the office. Maybe then I can see what exactly you're hiding under these fantastic suits." He reached under Ianto's waistcoat, smoothing his hand over his stomach and slipping it under his waistband. Ianto twitched under his touch. "Ooh, wet. Gross," Jack snorted. "We really need to get these clothes off ASAP." He chuckled. "I've been waiting a long time to have a legitimate reason to say that to you."

"I like the sound of that plan," Ianto said.

Jack unstuck himself from Ianto and started to put a finger to his earpiece. "Oh, by the way, picked this up for you at the chemist's." Jack handed Ianto a package he hadn't noticed before; a bright blue box of nicotine patches. "I think I need to do a thorough study of the best spot to put it on your body. Naked. Don't you?"

That was just the incentive Ianto needed finally to quit smoking. This time, he could hardly wait.

~~~

A few months later...

Daffodils nodded in the slight spring breeze that carried a promise of warmer weather to come soon. Ianto was happy to shuck his winter coat for just his suit jacket, as he made his way to the Mermaid Quay branch of Barclays Bank. The slight nip in the air was energising. He checked his watch; he told Gwen he'd be back at the Hub in time for the 3 pm staff meeting. She was much more stringent about schedules than Jack ever was, which, frankly, suited Ianto much better. Jack's loosey-goosey attention to time always drove Ianto crazy.

He went up to the customer service desk of the bank. As usual, Doris was on duty.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jones," she simpered at him, always ready with a smile and piece of chocolate from the ever-present box behind the counter. These middle-aged married women at the bank loved Ianto. "Must be Wednesday!"

Ianto forced a grin. "Right you are, Doris."

"Sue, I'll be right back. I've just got to help Mr. Jones back in the vault." Sue scurried over to greet Ianto before he and Doris disappeared into the vault, oohing and aahing over his new black suit, which he'd just retrieved from the tailor's the day before. He did think it looked quite smart, if he did say so himself, especially with the deep blue shirt he'd paired it with.

Ianto extracted himself from Sue's clutches and Doris lead him back to the vault. She made a show of concealing the combination from him, although naturally he'd figured it out long ago and could probably break in here any time he wanted to, especially with Torchwood tech at his disposal.

"Here we are. You know the procedures, Mr. Jones, so I won't bore you with repeating them again." Ianto nodded reassuringly. "Well...ta, I'll leave you to it." She gave him a lingering glance, probably wondering what the hell he did in here every week, but she was well-trained enough not to ask any questions or display any overt curiosity.

"Thanks, Doris." Ianto gave her a quick smile and waited until she left the room before turning his attention to the safety deposit boxes. He inserted his key into one and pulled it out and set it down on the table.

He sat in the chair and composed himself for his ritual.

First, he took out the less expensive items: some gadgets he decided he had no use for, a few books he particularly liked; a TAG Heuer watch with an uncomfortable band. Some of them he picked up to look at, others he merely traced with a loving hand.

Then it was on to the more valuable things.

First, the Tiffany diamond and platinum drop earrings. He loved the simple elegance of their design: £6,825. They would look lovely on Rhi, if that lout Johnny could ever afford to take her somewhere swanky. Maybe someday he'd take her out himself, leave that arsehole at home to take care of the kids; they could go dancing. Rhi deserved some finer things in her life. In the meantime, he'd given her a much more modest quartz and diamond pendant from Clive Ranger that sparkled prettily in the light (£205). He ignored the cutting looks from Johnny when he'd given it to her on her birthday, and focused on Rhi's delighted smile.

Then, a book: _The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes_, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, first edition, £1,952. It was his father's favourite Sherlock Holmes collection. He smoothed his hand over the cover, his fingertips tracing the indentations of the gilted letters, but lightly, so as not to leave too many oils from his skin. He took a few moments to read some pages of his favourite story. They wouldn't interrupt him; they never did. He could take as much time as he wanted.

Then he took out the watch: a 1946 18 karat pink gold Breitling Chronomat, £4555. Supposedly it could do everything from measure the speed of an object, to figuring interest rates and fuel consumption to taking a pulse. He held it lightly in his hand, fingers curled around the crimped gold edge of the watch face, watching the second hand sweep through the numbers.

He was saving that one for Jack.

He noticed it was nearly three; almost time for the meeting. Carefully returning all the items back to the safety deposit box, he shoved it back in its spot and locked it.

He called for Doris and she escorted him out, handing him a chocolate for the road. "See you next Wednesday," she said as he waved goodbye, leaving the bank.

Some red tulips were beginning to bud amidst the daffodils. Maybe Jack would be back before the daylilies bloomed.


End file.
